


Holidays

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-19
Updated: 2005-03-19
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: What if Jonathan had actually followed through and started over with Lex as he agreed to do at the end of Vortex?





	Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Holidays

by Jennie

 

 

PART 1: HALLOWEEN

 

Only Clark. No other person on earth could have talked him into this. Oh, he'd protested vociferously, but once the kid trotted out the puppy dog eyes and the pout... well, he'd caved.

 

Who wouldn't?

 

So, on Halloween, Lex found himself at the hospital handing out goodies to the patients on the pediatric floor.

 

In a costume. A Robin costume. Clark, of course, was Batman. Everyone knew that the caped crusader was taller than his faithful sidekick. Or so Clark said. Lex suspected that the 'way cool head gear' Batman (Clark's words, not his) wore was the real attraction. And the longer cape. Which pretty effectively hid the way that the skin-tight outfit displayed certain parts of Clark's lower body.

 

Lex's plan had been to pout Clark into feeling guilty about it, because, really, no one did guilt as adorably as Clark. It was a good plan, tried and true. Then Martha cornered him in his office one day. All thoughts of pouting and guilt went out of the window after that conversation. Her warning proved true, as, on Halloween night, Lex found himself watching with growing concern as Clark's veneer of cheer and optimism faded rapidly.

 

Finally, Lex pulled his silent companion into an empty lounge. He took a seat and watched Clark pace for a few minutes before breaking the silence, "Clark, I know this is... difficult for you. It's too soon for you to be here, after-"

 

"After Ryan died," Clark said when Lex paused to collect his thoughts. "It's all right, you can say it, Ryan died. He was just a kid, and I couldn't do anything, and he died."

 

Mrs. Kent had told him that Clark would probably react badly. As far as she knew, Clark had yet to express his anger and grief over the boy's death. At the time of the conversation, Lex had been so stunned to have her confiding in him, and expecting him to somehow be the one to help Clark deal with his emotions, that he hadn't really considered exactly *how* he was supposed to help Clark. Now, faced with an apparently distraught teenager, Lex was at somewhat of a loss.

 

"Yes," he agreed softly. "Ryan died. It's not fair, Clark. It never is."

 

"I haven't cried for him," Clark admitted roughly. "I just... can't."

 

"You will. When you're ready." Rising to his feet, Lex crossed the room, stopping in front of Clark and placing one hand on a slumped shoulder. "Right now, you're angry. At God. At fate. At the doctors who couldn't save him. At yourself for not saving him. And, at Ryan for leaving you."

 

Clark's lower lip trembled. "I don't want to feel this way, Lex. When will it stop?"

 

"When you understand that sometimes they can't be saved. Even you can't save everyone, Clark."

 

Slowly, Clark lowered his head to rest on Lex's shoulder. "I have to try. I always have to try."

 

"I know."

 

Then, finally, Clark cried.

 

The next day, Martha thanked him. Lex couldn't find any words, so he simply nodded. And blushed when she kissed his cheek.

 

 

PART 2: THANKSGIVING

 

Lex sighed. "Mrs. Kent, Thanksgiving is a time for family. You don't really want me there."

 

"Of course we do, Lex."

 

Rising to his feet, Lex emerged from behind his desk and crossed to the window. "Please. While I might believe that you and Clark want me to join you, there is no possible way you'll convince me that Mr. Kent feels the same way."

 

A warm hand landed on Lex's shoulder and it took a great amount of self control to stay his instinctive withdrawal to being touched unexpectedly. "Actually, Lex, he does. All three of us will be expecting you at noon on Thursday."

 

"I don't-"

 

"Don't believe me?" She turned him to face her with a gentle but insistent push on his shoulder. "You wouldn't call me a liar, would you?"

 

"No. No, of course not. But-"

 

"No buts, Lex. Thursday noon. You bring the wine."

 

She left before he could formulate another argument.

 

***

 

Nervous. He, Lex Luthor, was actually nervous. Over a simple dinner. The evening before he'd spent two hours in the wine cellar choosing the perfect bottle of wine to take to the Kent's. And then, the next morning, he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time selecting the perfect outfit to wear.

 

It had proven more difficult than he'd have imagined; selecting something nice enough to acknowledge the holiday but not so dressy as to insult Jonathan Kent's sensitivities was a royal pain in the ass. He hadn't spent so much time on his clothing choice since... well, come to think of it, he'd never had such a hard time selecting an outfit.

 

His problem was two-fold. Not only was he nervous about spending the holiday with the Kents -- well, Jonathan Kent, to be precise -- but this just wasn't the way he usually handled Thanksgiving. Since the death of his mother Lex had made a habit of spending the time from Thanksgiving to the New Year wasted out of his mind. Which had proven to be painful, but effective. A month of hangovers was small price to pay for escaping the memories.

 

As much as Lex's mother had loved the winter holidays, Lex hated them. Memories of the way Lillian Luthor had anticipated this time of year, throwing herself into preparations and making sure that her young son participated in and enjoyed said holidays tortured him every year. The smells from the kitchen that had filled the entire house. The decorations she'd put up, insisting that she do it herself -- with Lex's help. The gleam in her eyes as Christmas approached...

 

It hurt to remember. So, Lex had learned to numb himself with alcohol and drugs, starting on Thanksgiving and stopping on the first of January. Not that either made the memories go away. They helped, though. Made it easier for him to make it through without losing control of his emotions. The alternative -- crying his way through the holidays -- was simply unacceptable.

 

***

 

Lex arrived at the appointed hour, to find Mr. Kent the only one home. Martha and Clark, he was informed, were at the local soup kitchen feeding the poor.

 

Doomed from the get go. Simply marvelous.

 

After hanging his coat in the closet Jonathan had indicated with a negligent wave of one hand, Lex hesitated. He stared down at the bottle of wine in his hand, then cast a questioning glance at Clark's father.

 

"In the fridge," he was told. "Grab a couple of beers while you're in there, would you?"

 

Silently, Lex did as instructed. Returning to the living room, he handed both beers to Mr. Kent. Then he stood there, uncertain what to do next.

 

Jonathan sat one bottle in front of the empty spot at the other end of the couch. Opening his own beer, he took a sip. After emitting a satisfied belch, he sat back and put his feet on the table.

 

A moment later, he sighed. "Lex, stop dithering and sit down. The Packers' game starts any minute now."

 

"Um-" Seldom at a loss for words, Lex was stunned to find himself speechless. Game? "I don't really..."

 

"Don't tell me that you don't watch football, Lex." Jonathan's horror at such a lack in Lex's education was very obvious.

 

Doomed was definitely an understatement.

 

"I... no, sir, I don't," he admitted reluctantly.

 

"Well," came the hearty answer, "no time like the present. Sit down, son."

 

Son? Slowly, Lex sat on the cushion Jonathan patted encouragingly. Had the man just called him...?

 

The game was near the end of the fourth quarter when Martha and Clark arrived home. Both Jonathan and Lex were rooting loudly for Green Bay, mostly because they'd consumed three fourths of the twelve pack of Sam Adams Martha'd purchased.

 

"Lex!" Clark exclaimed. "What are you... you don't even like football."

 

"Hush, Clark. This is an important play. If Green Bay makes this touchdown-"

 

"-they'll win," Jonathan finished as the two high-fived each other.

 

Hands on hips, Martha glared at her husband. "Jonathan Kent! How much have you had to drink?"

 

Jon shrugged. "Coupla beers is all," he answered ambiguously. "Right Lex?"

 

Lex nodded in solemn agreement.

 

Martha snorted her disbelief.

 

"Lex doesn't like beer, either," Clark said.

 

"Of course I do, Clark."

 

At the same moment, Jonathan chimed in, "Of course he does, Clark."

 

"No more drinking before dinner," Martha announced firmly. "Lex, Clark, as soon as the game ends, the two of you can peel the potatoes. Jonathan, you will feed the animals."

 

"Yes, Mom."

 

"Yes, dear."

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

Satisfied that all three men harbored no doubts as to who was in charge, Martha bustled into the kitchen and got to work.

 

***

 

Despite the sadness lurking in a stubborn corner of his mind, Lex enjoyed himself that evening. Never once had any of the Kents made him doubt his welcome. He even got a kick out of Mrs. Kent's scolding when he surrendered to temptation and pelted Clark with potato peels -- as he himself was being pelted.

 

It was... comfortable. Warm. All of the things his mother had taught him Thanksgiving should be. Which hurt. Hurt in ways he'd learned to avoid through chemical intervention. As soon as coffee and dessert had been consumed, Lex went home. Ignoring the concern on Martha and Clark's faces wasn't easy, but he managed.

 

Once again in his cavernous and lonely castle, Lex's usual holiday depression descended. He shed his coat, put away the leftovers Mrs. Kent had insisted he take with him, and retreated to his study.

 

Then started drinking.

 

PART 3: CHRISTMAS

 

Arms folded across his chest, Jonathan Kent studied Lex. "Care to explain why you're here and not at the farm?"

 

"Because I'm drunk," Lex answered with a dignity that only the very inebriated could muster.

 

"Too bad." Jonathan's voice was noticeably lacking in sympathy. "Get your overnight bag, I'll give you a ride over."

 

Lex shook his head, then winced at the movement. "Uh-uh. 'M not going."

 

"If I go home without you, Martha will be your next visitor."

 

"Oh, god." Lex winced again. "She's going to-"

 

"Lecture you," Jonathan finished for him. "So will Clark."

 

"Fuu-uuck." Hiding his face in both hands, Lex shook his head -- more carefully this time. "I'm up the creek, aren't I?"

 

"Yep."

 

Lex grimaced, rubbing his temples with both hands. Did the man have to sound so fucking cheerful at the prospect?

 

"I'll be over in the morning," he offered weakly, hoping that Clark's father would take pity on his fragile condition.

 

"Not a chance! You'll come with me, now. If you think I'm going to spend Christmas Eve with a pouting Clark and a disapproving Martha, you are sadly mistaken." An evil smirk tilted the corners of Mr. Kent's mouth. "Besides, if I have to suffer through this, so do you."

 

With a sigh, Lex surrendered to the inevitable. Rising to his feet, he headed up to collect the bag he'd packed yesterday. Before he'd decided that the brandy looked good; far better than an evening spent in the bosom of Clark's family.

 

"Oh, and, Lex?" Jonathan called as Lex reached the doorway. "Wear something nice. You'll be attending Christmas services with us tonight."

 

"Services?" Lex repeated incredulously. "As in church services?"

 

"Right on the first guess. Clark will be singing with the choir. You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?"

 

It occurred to Lex that life hadn't been all that bad before Mr. Kent's attitude toward him had softened.

 

"I'm going to have a drink while you get ready. And, Lex? If Martha hears about this... "

 

"My lips are sealed," Lex promised.

 

***

 

Church, it turned out, wasn't as much of a trial as he'd feared. He listened to the music happily and entertained himself with a little Clark-watching when the Reverend interrupted the singing with words.

 

While he wouldn't go so far as to say he enjoyed it, there were compensations.

 

After services, they went home, each retiring to bed after a cup of hot chocolate. To his surprise, Lex fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, not waking until seven the next morning.

 

"Get up, Lex. I want to open my presents."

 

Due to his hangover and the early hour, Lex wasn't at his best when he rolled out of bed. "Coming, Clark," he croaked.

 

Instead of retreating, thereby giving Lex a moment to die in peace, Clark shoved the door open and bounded into the room. "Mom sent coffee up. She said you'd need it. And here," he continued, holding a garment of some sort out to him. "It's a robe," Clark explained when Lex just stared blankly at him. "I never wore it -- grew out of it before I could. Put it on and come downstairs."

 

"Clark!" Martha called from the living room. "Stop bothering Lex. Come back down here and make another pot of coffee while we wait."

 

"But Mo-om-" Clark protested.

 

"I'm sure that Lex will join us very soon, Clark," Jonathan said in an amused tone. "Tell him I've made a pitcher of bloody marys. That should get him moving."

 

As soon as Lex recovered from this hangover -- assuming, of course, that he did recover -- he'd repay Jonathan Kent for this unseemly amusement at his expense.

 

Once fresh coffee and bloody marys -- for those in need -- had been poured, everyone went in and sat. Martha and Jonathan on the sofa, Lex in an armchair with Clark on the floor, disconcertingly close to Lex's feet. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their drinks and studied the colorfully wrapped gifts piled under and around the tree.

 

Eventually, the peaceful moment ended. Clark shifted anxiously and turned to look pleadingly at his parents. "Now?"

 

Martha smiled indulgently. "Yes, Clark. Now. Go get the stockings."

 

A stocking made of a colorful variety of cloth squares landed in Lex's lap. He stared at it in stunned silence for a beat, then turned to meet Martha's eyes.

 

"I made it for you," she said, smiling gently.

 

"I... " Lex stroked the fabric reverently. "I haven't had a Christmas stocking since-"

 

"I know, dear."

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent. This must have taken a lot of work."

 

She shrugged. "I enjoyed making it, Lex. Needlework relaxes me, and," she added with a teasing grin, "Santa needed something to hold your stocking presents."

 

"As heartwarming as this moment is," Jonathan said, a smile clear in his voice, "Clark is going to explode if we don't get started."

 

"Yeah!" Clark backed his father enthusiastically. "Can we please open our stockings?"

 

Tentatively, not sure what to expect, Lex started unwrapping. Unlike the fruit, nuts, and candy with which his own mother had filled his Christmas stocking, this was an unexpected and fascinating collection of small gifts. After opening each present, Lex studied it carefully before setting it aside. Engrossed with his stocking, it took some time before the quiet sank in.

 

He looked up defensively -- almost warily -- at his audience.

 

Clark broke the moment by bending over to grab a handful of Lex's opened gifts. He guffawed at the galoshes, snickered at the silk -- lavender silk -- boxers, tried to convince everyone that they really, really needed to open Lex's box of chocolate truffles right then. In general, Clark acted like the sweet young -- emphasis on the 'young' -- thing he was.

 

Lex loved every minute of it.

 

Concentrating fiercely on opening his next present, Lex took great care to not tear the paper. Clark leant forward, trying to see what lurked under the wrappings.

 

"Clark," Lex complained mildly, "I can't see with your head in the way."

 

Silently, Lex stared at the gift revealed when he removed the wrapping paper. "What?" He asked, confused. Lifting the item, he examined it closely. "I... this can't be... " He glanced up at Mrs. Kent. "How did you...?"

 

"Your housekeeper gave Clark a few photos. I studied those and the portrait of your mother in the castle parlor," Martha explained. "A few of my old friends knew Lillian and were happy to tell me about her. Once I had a feel for what kind of woman your mother was, it was easy."

 

Lex's mouth fell open. "You painted this?"

 

"Yeah," Clark bragged. "Isn't she great? I keep telling her, but she just waves me away. You tell her, Lex. She'll believe you."

 

Martha 'ahemed'. "We still have the presents under the tree to open, Clark."

 

Diversion successful, Lex noted as Clark quickly crossed to the tree. Methodically, he read the name tags, delivering each gift to the appropriate recipient.

 

Lex forgot to be nervous about how his gifts to the Kents would be received as he watched the pile on his left -- the pile of gifts bearing his name -- grew ever taller.

 

Wow.

 

***

 

That night, Lex sat in the spare bedroom that the Kents insisted on referring to as 'his', and contemplated the success of his gifts to the Kent family. It had been a challenge, thinking up appropriate presents for each... presents that didn't cost too much, that would express his admiration for each and his growing understanding of their interests and needs.

 

Surprisingly, Mr. and Mrs. Kent hadn't been as difficult to buy for as Clark had been. A scale model kit of Jonathan's beloved Truimph and a Green Bay Packers workout jacket had both been well-received. And, although it was true that he'd probably spent a little more on Martha Kent than her husband would have approved of -- had he known exactly how much a first edition, mint copy of the 1957 Fannie Farmer Cookbook cost -- what Mr. Kent didn't know wouldn't hurt Lex. The membership on the Jackson & Perkins Rose of the Month club had pleased her so much that Jonathan had actually nodded at Lex with unspoken but obvious approval.

 

Clark's gift, on the other hand, had been rather trickier. He'd known exactly what he wanted to get the boy. And, yes, it was something Clark would use and appreciate. Something practical. Useful. But. After an entire week of scheming, of considering and rejecting several plans, of seriously considering just doing it and counting on Martha to convince her husband that they just couldn't return Lex's gift to their son without breaking his (the son's, of course) heart, he'd decided to 'do the right and honorable thing'.

 

So he'd gone to Mr. Kent for advice. 

 

Okay, he'd thrown himself on the man's mercy, playing on his own desire to give Clark something the boy truly wanted and needed. Practically begging to be allowed to do it. Asking humbly -- humbly -- how he could do it within the parameters of the rules that the Kents' set down for the giving of gifts and the cost of said gifts.

 

His decision not to go to Mrs. Kent first had been the deciding factor for her husband, he decided. Once Jonathan ascertained that Lex had not done this, he'd capitulated. They'd gone out one December afternoon, leaving in the truck Lex had originally purchased for Clark, returning in a used Blazer which met the price and quality guidelines agreed upon by the two men.

 

Lex had hidden the vehicle in his garage. The temptation to replace tires, stereo system, and paint job had been there, but resisted. When Mr. Kent had expressed surprise at this, Lex had shrugged. "I'm trying, Mr. Kent," he'd said, "to respect your reasons. I'm even learning to understand them."

 

At which point, Jonathan had magnanimously agreed to new tires. For safety's sake.

 

Clark's surprise and joy upon opening the box containing the keys to his very own truck had almost brought tears to Lex's eyes. The enthusiastic hug he'd received had definitely brought a neon colored blush to Lex's face.

 

He hadn't even minded Martha's 'awe, isn't Lex cute' smile.

 

All in all, he'd been proud of himself at the success of his gift choices.

 

So much so, that Mr. Kent's gift to him -- Football for Dummies -- hadn't bothered him a bit. The sweater Mrs. Kent had made for him -- the purple sweater -- had touched him in ways Lex found a little disconcerting. Her pleased grin when he immediately donned it had been downright heart-warming. As for Clark's gifts... Lex really had no need for a hand-painted tie, covered with tiny representations of various expensive European sports cars, but he'd loved it. And, the book on astronomy... Clark's desire to share his hobby with Lex had made him feel so, well, warm inside.

 

The painstakingly hand-made band for his watch -- the watch Clark knew Lex treasured as his last gift from his mother... That one had brought tears to Lex's eyes. Luckily, Clark knew him well enough to leave it on his pillow, to be opened in private.

 

Lex couldn't remember a gift meaning so much to him. Ever. 

 

***

 

Part 4: New Year's Eve

 

Lex was in hell.

 

What had started out as a simple -- well, simple in Lexian terms -- New Year's Eve reception/cocktail party had become the 'Smallville Event Of The Year'.

 

He blamed Martha Kent for the whole thing. It had seemed such a sensible thing to do, asking for her advice and assistance. She seemed the perfect person to keep the event casual. Tone down his own tendency to excess.

 

Hah!

 

Once Lex had promised (in blood) that he would keep a close eye on her, make sure that she didn't overdo, considering her rapidly advancing pregnancy, Jonathan had agreed to the idea. After lecturing Lex's household staff on the care and feeding of a woman in her fifth month of pregnancy, Mr. Kent had appeared quite satisfied with the arrangement. 

 

To the staff's credit, not one of them had even cracked a smile during Kent's speech.

 

As it turned out, Lex had severely underestimated Martha's determination to change (improve) every single idea he'd had for the party. He'd also learned that arguing with a pregnant woman was an exercise in futility. Before long, not only were his employees invited, so were their children and every merchant in town -- along with their families. The guest list now included, oh, about ninety percent of Smallville's population.

 

As far as Lex could tell, every RSVP had been a 'yes'.

 

Rather than use the catering service Lex generally hired, Martha had instructed each couple to bring a dish. This, Lex learned, was called a 'potluck'.

 

Clark, damn his eyes, merely snickered when Lex moaned about the situation.

 

As the day in question grew closer, Lex found himself actually afraid to go home. Suddenly, his austere castle had become... actually, he wasn't exactly sure how to describe it. First came the decorations: streamers -- crepe paper streamers -- and banners -- produced, Lex was sure, with the enthusiastic help of his heretofore trusted personal assistant. He wasn't sure which of his traitorous staff had contributed the red and blue theme, nor the numerous paper mache figures of Father Time and Baby New Year, but he'd hunt down the culprit(s) and make them pay. 

 

And pay they would. Painfully. Termination was sounding good just about now.

 

Then, furniture started moving -- or disappearing altogether. There was a nursery -- a nursery -- in his library. His personal theater had been transformed into a play room. There were toys. Everywhere. He only ventured into the area once. After tripping over a remote-controlled car, only to land on top of some kind of plastic jungle gym type thing, he'd steered clear.

 

The pre- and early-teen set had a video arcade set up in what had once been his office. And the pool. His pool! Covered up, in preparation for the separate party Martha and Clark (he really was going to kill Clark. The boy was having entirely too much fun with this) had planned for the older kids. 

 

The possibilities for disaster in that idea boggled Lex's mind. Secluded changing rooms, a steam room, dark corners, well camouflaged by big leafy plants. Holy shit! If any of the parents caught those kids doing what Lex just knew they'd be doing... The thought so horrified him, that he'd immediately recruited Clark to keep an eye on things -- with Martha's approval, of course. Somehow, Lex was less than sanguine about Clark's promise to keep the punch from being spiked, any drugs from being smuggled in, and, most importantly, keep the inevitable amorous couples from engaging in any activities their parents would disapprove of.

 

The demure way Clark agreed seemed to satisfy his mother. Lex, on the other hand, hadn't missed the mischievously coy look Clark had sent from under innocently lowered eyelashes.

 

By the time the big night arrived, Lex was a wreck. Nothing Martha or Clark said could allay his fears. He knew better. Because, well, Murphy's Law, hell. Lex's Law, more like it. Anything that could go wrong, would go wrong. It was inevitable. Unavoidable. He didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of making it through the night unscathed.

 

Several hours later, as things went along smoothly, Lex found himself growing more and more tense. Despite the eagle-eyes of his security men (and women), stationed in all of the trouble spots Lex could think of, his sense of impending doom only increased.

 

Nevertheless, trying to chat amiably with various guests -- and their children -- wasn't as awful as he'd imagined. Well, okay, no one had warned him that the under-five set had a language of their own. Nor had he been prepared for the loudly-voiced questions from the six to thirteen set about his baldness, exactly how much money he had, and did he have horses. (If so, would he take them riding?)

 

And if he caught Clark laughing at him one more time... 

 

Then there was Martha. The woman hadn't stopped moving since her arrival early that afternoon. At the crack of noon, Lex had been awakened by a commanding voice, "Rise and shine, Lex. We have a lot of work to do before the guests arrive."

 

"Ugh," had been his best and only response.

 

"Lex Luthor! Get your lazy butt out of that bed."

 

Hiding under his pillow and pulling the covers over his head had been a wasted effort. Without warning, the blankets were unceremoniously removed and the pillow thrown across the room.

 

"G'way," he grumbled, curling into a protective ball.

 

A sharp slap to one cheek of his ass got him moving in a hurry. With a yelp of outrage, he rolled off of the bed, reaching futilely for something with which to cover his nakedness.

 

Hysterical laughter assailed him from the doorway. Clark, it seemed, had accompanied his mother -- aided and abetted her, even. How else would Martha have known where Lex's bedroom was located?

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

And, fuck.

 

"D-don't worry, Lex. You don't have anything she hasn't seen."

 

Oh, well, that just made everything so much better.

 

With a snort, Lex adopted his best I-am-an-executive-and-will-not-be embarrassed aura, and marched into his bathroom.

 

After a hearty breakfast, which Martha watched him eat with motherly satisfaction, Lex pushed his plate aside and drained the last of his coffee.

 

Then he burped. Loudly. Horrified, Lex covered his mouth with both hands and wished fervently that he could just sink right through the floor. Clark's laughter and Martha's indulgent expression didn't help at all. For the third time in recent memory, Lex blushed.

 

Martha kindly gave him thirty minutes to read his morning papers while drinking another cup of caffeine. 

 

"Okay!" she announced with enthusiasm the second Lex swallowed the last of his coffee. "Time to get to work, boys."

 

After several hours of rearranging buffet tables, moving flower arrangements, blocking off the upper floors, and setting up stages for the bands -- one for the teenage party and one for the adult area in the ballroom -- Lex had just about decided that being befriended by the Kents was a serious mistake.

 

Jonathan's arrival, hours later, and the hearty slap on the back he'd greeted Lex with, had fully convinced him of that fact.

 

Lex had worried that Martha's frantic to-ing and fro-ing would bring the wrath of Kent Senior down upon his head. Much to his surprise, not only was Jonathan not angry or accusing, the man appeared to be having the time of his life.

 

Of course, the constant stream of full beer bottles he'd enptied might have had something to do with that...

 

Lex found himself avoiding the corner where Jonathan and his buddies had gathered. Mostly out of self-defense. Every time he came within range, Kent congratulated him on the fine party -- with another slap on the back.

 

When things had finally quieted down, most of the kids (the younger kids) having fallen peacefully asleep on the air mattresses Lex had purchased in bulk -- at the insistence of Martha Kent -- Lex foolishly decided he could relax a little. He poured himself a hefty dose of brandy and settled into a chair, conveniently hidden behind a well-placed leafy palm of some sort.

 

His peace didn't last long, though. Not five minutes had passed before his second-in-command-security-guy approached to inform him that there were problems in the pool area.

 

The possibilities of said problems sent Lex hurrying downstairs to the area in question. Clark met him in the hallway with a sheepishly guilty expression and a, "Hey, Lex. How's the party upstairs going? Everything's just fine down here."

 

Every alarm in Lex's body went off. He pushed his way past Clark and opened the door.

 

The sight that greeted him was beyond even his worst imaginings. Tarring and feathering. That was what would happen to him once the parents discovered the situation.

 

Somehow, the kids had managed to remove the flooring that covered the pool. And in that pool... Naked, or nearly naked, teenagers were- Jesus! Wrestling. Playing tag. Playing volleyball. Playing Marco Polo. One girl was preparing to dive from the board, bouncing up and down with great enthusiasm. He greatly feared that her rather generous bosom would knock her out at any minute.

 

Not only that, but somehow, the sneaky bastards had managed to spike the punch -- Lex could smell the fumes from clear across the vast room.

 

"I'm going to kill you, Clark Kent."

 

"But... But, Leeex, it wasn't my fault. Your security person..."

 

"Bullshit! I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You."

 

"I'm -- uh -- sorry?"

 

Sorry, Lex's ass.

 

Irritated beyond words, Lex turned and stalked out of the pool area, up the stairs, and outside to the garden. He could hear the raucous noises as midnight approached, but had absolutely no desire to go back in and face the hugs and kisses he knew he'd be subjected to.

 

Soft footsteps approached. Footsteps he recognized, but refused to acknowledge. It would be a cold day in hell before he spoke to Clark again.

 

But. When warm lips caressed the nape of his neck, he couldn't help himself from melting. The softly spoken, "Happy New Year, Lex," had him turning around to face the boy pressed along his back.

 

"Have you been drinking that punch, Clark?" he finally asked, more than a little suspicion in his voice.

 

"Nope," Clark answered simply. "Not a drop."

 

"Then what the hell do you think you're doing?"

 

"Kissing you."

 

"Oh. Why?"

 

Clark shrugged. "It's about time, don't you think?"

 

"About time for what, exactly?"

 

"For us to admit how we feel about each other. How much we want each other."

 

With a put-upon sigh, Lex tried to pull back. "Cla-mmmph!"

 

"There," Clark said with satisfaction, once he released Lex's lips. 

 

Lex blinked. And cleared his throat. Twice. "Clark... you can't... we can't-"

 

With an amused smile, Clark ran one finger along Lex's lips. "Of course we can. Don't worry, Lex, I'll take it slow. Give you plenty of time to get used to the idea."

 

"But, Clark, your parents!"

 

"Don't worry about them. They already know."

 

"I... You... " Lex sputtered.

 

"Happy New Year's," Clark said again. He pressed one more gentle kiss to Lex's mouth, then wandered off. Whistling cheerfully.

 

***

 

Part 5: Valentines Day

 

Lex was sure he'd had worse days. Must have done. Couldn't for the life of him remember when, though.

 

An early morning meeting with Lionel had started things off with raised blood pressure and a pounding headache. The board meeting -- attended by Dad, of course -- had only made things worse. By the time he was informed that the entire computer network had gone down, Lex'd been completely unsurprised. The letter he'd received from the EPA, warning him that an inspection of the crap plant was imminent, hadn't even caused him to raise an eyebrow.

 

In light of the day's events, Lex decided that he was going to get drunk that evening. Very, very drunk.

 

Weary beyond words, he parked in front of the mansion and trudged inside. The poorly-concealed amusement with which his butler greeted him warned Lex that the horrors of the day had not ended when he'd left the plant.

 

"What?" he demanded shortly, when Jacob's smirk grew into a grin.

 

And then he saw it. A purple ribbon ran down the hall and under his office door.

 

Jacob -- his soon-to-be former employee -- actually had the nerve to smile when Lex demanded an explanation. "I'm sure I wouldn't know, sir."

 

Lex opened his mouth to tell Jacob exactly what he thought of traitorous employees allowing unidentified purple ribbons into his home. Jacob's smile widened.

 

"Fuck!" Lex shook his head tiredly. "Go away," he said petulantly. "Just... go. I'm too tired to kill you tonight."

 

"Yes, sir!" Jacob replied smartly before turning on his heel and departing with a distressing lack of haste.

 

Where had he gone wrong, Lex wondered. His staff hadn't always been so... God dammit! They'd all shown him proper respect -- respect bordering on fear -- until that fucking New Year's Eve party. Ever since that night, they'd all taken to smiling at him. At the most inappropriate times. His housekeeper/cook, Lila, had even gone so far as to pat his arm and murmur, "There, there," at him one afternoon after a particularly irritating visit from dear old Dad.

 

Sighing heavily, Lex followed the ribbon to his office. He cautiously peered into the room, expecting he knew not what, and, there in the chair behind his desk -- his chair -- sat a Teddy Bear. Not only was it wearing a disgustingly cheery smile, it was pink. Jesus! Worse, the sash across its chest said, 'Be My Valentine'.

 

With a pained groan, Lex collapsed onto the sofa. That damned kid just wouldn't give up! Despite the fact that he'd put every effort into avoiding Clark after that kiss on New Year's, the boy always seemed to track him down. If he went to Metropolis in the evening, Clark mysteriously turned up. Avoiding Sunday dinner at the Kents' was futile, as Clark would appear, bearing a plate of leftovers. (Because Martha worried that Lex was too thin, Clark insisted) He tried hiding in one of the many unused rooms in the mansion when Clark made his produce delivery. Clark invariably tracked him down.

 

Resistance became more and more difficult. With each encounter, Clark grew less respectful of Lex's personal space, standing a little closer every damned time. If Lex made the mistake of sitting on a couch in Clark's presence, damned if the kid didn't sit right next to him. Not so casual touches became the norm. 'Spontaneous' hugs occurred with alarming frequency.

 

Cold showers didn't work any more. Even jacking off before one of Clark's visits failed to quell the way Lex's wayward body reacted to Clark's proximity. Hell, all Clark had to do was walk into the room Lex occupied and, whoops, Lex's cock sprang to attention.

 

He was doomed. A pervert. Child molester. Lex fully expected that his prison cellmate would bear the name 'Bubba' and have a particular hatred of bald billionaires who molested little boys.

 

After pouring himself a brandy, a lot of brandy, Lex headed up to his bedroom. A long, hot soak in the tub sounded just about perfect right then. If he was going to drink and brood, he might as well do so in comfort.

 

Two steps into the room, though, and Lex came to an abrupt stop, staring fixedly at the items adorning his pillows. A rose -- Purple Tiger, of course -- a box of chocolates -- Godiva, of course -- and a card, all sat waiting for him on... Where the hell had Clark found silk pillow cases covered with hearts, flowers, and -- Lex checked again -- yes, those were indeed cupids.

 

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Lex shouted the last.

 

"Happy Valentine's Day?" Clark said hesitantly from somewhere behind him.

 

Lex turned slowly. "Clark... Dammit, Clark, are you trying to drive me insane?"

 

"No, Lex. I'm trying to seduce you."

 

"We can't just... I don't... This just won't work, Clark."

 

"Yes. We can," Clark said fiercely. "And, yes, it will." 

 

Lex looked away, fixing his eyes on the wall behind Clark, absently noting that the paint color didn't quite match the linens as well as he'd thought.

 

"Lex?"

 

"I think it's time for you to go home."

 

Silence followed Lex's quietly spoken words for a couple of beats, then Clark emitted an audible gasp. "Oh, god," he moaned. "You said... 'I don't'. Lex... you aren't... did you mean that you don't, um, like men? I mean, you know, that way."

 

Lex seriously considered lying. He raised his eyes and opened his mouth to avow his ever-lasting heterosexuality. And stopped when Clark narrowed his eyes in warning.

 

"Don't you dare lie to me, Lex. I'm young, not stupid."

 

Shit! Okay. So much for Plan A. "What about your parents, then? Do you really think they're going to just smile and nod when they find out we're-"

 

"Told you already. They know, Lex. I think they knew before I did, to tell you the truth."

 

"Your friends?"

 

"Will accept us if they're really my friends. Besides, Chloe figured it out at the party."

 

Well, that certainly explained the smirks and knowing looks she'd been sending his way recently.

 

"Clark-"

 

"Stop it, Lex. Just stop, okay? I love you. I don't care what anyone else says about us."

 

Lex snorted. "You will when I end up in jail for child sexual abuse."

 

"You said 'when', not 'if'," Clark said with a brilliant smile. "Definite progress, there."

 

"Clark-"

 

"We'll be careful, Lex. Very, very careful."

 

"Careful," Lex repeated dubiously.

 

"Yep. Careful not to get caught. And-" Clark's face reddened. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out and displaying condoms and lube.

 

Lex moaned. "Oh, god."

 

"My mom bought this stuff for us in January," Clark informed him gravely.

 

"Oh, GOD." Lex wondered if a man could die of embarrassment.

 

"She said that from now on, you could take care of buying this kind of stuff yourself."

 

Holy shit! Despite his discomfiture, Lex couldn't help wishing he could have somehow overheard that particular mother-son conversation. But-

 

"Clark. I can't use those."

 

Confused, Clark studied the items in his hand. "Why? What's wrong with them?"

 

"Your mother bought them, Clark." Just the thought of Martha Kent purchasing a box of Trojans and a tube of Glide made him dizzy.

 

"So," Clark licked his lips and looked at Lex's bedside table. "Do you, um, have-"

 

"Yes, Clark. I do."

 

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?"

 

While Lex couldn't help but find Clark's enthusiasm inspiring, he still harbored more than a few doubts. "Don't you think this is rushing things, Clark?"

 

"No!" Clark shook his head vehemently. "C'mon, Lex. I've been waiting for, like, forever."

 

"Clark." Lex made one final effort. "I don't think-"

 

"Exactly! Don't think, Lex. Just do. Me, that is. Do me." With that, Clark hopped onto the bed, bouncing happily. Once he stilled, he reclined against the headboard and clasped his hands behind his head. "I want to see you naked."

 

Oh boy. All of Lex's noble intentions gave up the ghost upon hearing the low, rumbling voice with which Clark spoke. Shaking his head in bemused disbelief, he stood immobile, just staring at this new and confusing -- but thrilling -- version of Clark.

 

"Here," Clark said, rising to his knees and moving to the bed's edge. "Let me help."

 

Before he could comprehend Clark's offer, Lex was quite naked, supine on the bed, and covered with an equally naked Clark.

 

"H-how..."

 

"Later, Lex. I'll explain everything later."

 

Which was just fine with Lex. Because, after kissing him with great enthusiasm (and just where had Clark learned to kiss that way?), Clark rolled to one side and started a tactile exploration of Lex's body.

 

"God, Lex," he sighed. "Your skin... so soft. And, no hair. At all."

 

"That doesn't bother you?"

 

"What?" Clark frowned and looked up at Lex. "The no hair thing? No, Lex. That doesn't bother me at all. It's kinda hot. Really hot, actually." And he leaned closer, mouthing Lex's jaw line, his chest, his arms... 

 

Helpless under the assault, Lex arched and moaned at each new touch. Inexorably, Clark made his way south, touching, licking, kissing his way to Lex's groin. As Clark opened his mouth to taste his cock, Lex suddenly regained the ability to move. Grasping Clark by the hair, he pulled.

 

"What?" Clark asked grumpily. "Why'd you stop me? I want to taste-"

 

"Need you up here."

 

Maneuvering a body the size of Clark's proved a challenge to Lex's lust-weakened muscles. Finally, he had Clark stretched out on his back. Lex climbed aboard, covering as much of the acres and acres of Clark's silky skin as was humanly possible. He aligned their matching erections and moved his hips, grinding against Clark with a groan.

 

"Like this for now," he whispered. "It's... I'm too close for anything more complicated."

 

"Complicated as in fucking?"

 

Lex whimpered. "Don't say things like that!"

 

Clark fluttered -- fluttered -- his eyelashes at Lex and smiled. Grasping Lex's hips in both hands, he started a rhythmic motion, bringing their cocks into thrilling contact with each downward thrust.

 

It didn't take long. What with the moans, gasps, and repeated calls of Lex's name and all, Lex was balanced precariously on the edge within minutes.

 

"Clark," he gasped, clutching frantically at broad shoulders. "Now, Clark. Come with me. NOW!"

 

Bless the boy, he acceded to Lex's demand immediately. Flushed with passion, lower lip clenched between his teeth, face clenched in a rictus of joy, Clark was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

 

"Oh, SHIT!" Lex shouted as his own orgasm rushed through him. "Clark! Clark, I lo-"

 

"You love me."

 

Beyond speech, Lex nodded.

 

"Me too," Clark purred. He gently rolled them over, sprawling his not inconsiderable bulk over Lex's body, his fast hardening cock pushing against Lex's hip.

 

"How long?" he asked.

 

"Huh?"

 

"How long before you can do it again?"

 

"Jesus! I... Don't you have to head home soon?"

 

"Nope," Clark answered cheerfully. "Permission to sleep over. They don't expect us until eight am."

 

"Expect? Us?"

 

"For breakfast." Clark smiled at Lex's expression of horror. "Don't worry, I told them that tonight was the night."

 

Visions of himself as the main course at 'breakfast' sent a chill down Lex's spine. Various plans for making a fast and permanent getaway passed through his mind.

 

Clark narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't even think about it, Lex. If you don't show up, Mom will track you down and drag you back. You know she'll do it, too."

 

"Fuck!"

 

Clark grinned. "Just what I had in mind. How long did you say it'd be before you're ready for round two?"

 

Never mind facing the wrath of Clark's parents... Lex didn't stand a chance of surviving the night.

 

Not that he minded. No, he didn't mind at all.

 

***

 

Many, many thanks to my invaluable beta's on this one: Elizabeth, Sue, and Teri.


End file.
